Monday, January 02, 2006

You May Ask Yourself: Well, How Did I Get Here?

My brother relapsed and is in jail. My heart is a ridiculous organ. I'm pretty sure it's made entirely of red vines and cranberry relish. I hope it hardens into a gelatinous rock and falls out.

He called me and I couldn't talk. That's worth at least 70% of the blame.

On his tombstone: It Was the Loneliness.

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